Infatuated
by Fiery And Proud
Summary: SLASH! Somebody slips Harry Potter a love potion. But who will he fall for?
1. Jinxed Juice

Chapter One: Jinxed Juice

Harry Potter sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall and rested his forehead on the table next to his golden plate. He was dead tired after a night of relentless Potions homework. Snape had once again given a ridiculously long essay on the properties of love potions, and their different variations. All the girls, of course, thought it was fascinating, and the boys had groaned with the prospect of a week of giggles and whispers, and never drinking anything that they hadn't seen fixed before their very eyes, for fear of falling under the spell of such a potion.

Of course, the concocting of a love potion was illegal by Ministry laws, but still, considering all that had happened at Hogwarts since the arrival of Harry Potter, the sixth year boys never could be too careful.

"Morning," Ron grunted, sitting down across from Harry, who kept his head on the table, but managed a grunt of acknowledgement back. Had he lifted his head from the wood, he would have seen that Ron was livid, but he needn't bother, because Ron soon expressed this in words.

"Hermione's gone mad. She found out that I burned that damn homework organizer, and she blew the coop. She went completely berserk, and started ranting about how I'm always putting off my homework until the last minute, and that if I keep it up, I'd end up unemployed."

Harry lifted his head from the table and looked up at Ron. He was obviously infuriated. His ears were as red as his hair, and his eyes were shining. "She said that if I didn't straighten up, I'd end up as poor as the rest of my family," he muttered, finally. Harry's jaw dropped.

"Ron…She didn't mean it, and you know it…Hermione's just under a lot of stress, you know that. She can't think properly when she's stressed, and sometimes she says things she doesn't mean. You know she just wants the best for you," Harry consoled. Ron was quivering, half with anger, and half with sadness.

"I know…But it really struck home."

"Your family is not…" He trailed off, not wanting to actually say it.

"Poor?" Ron supplied, defeated. Harry nodded.

"…not because your parents don't work hard, or aren't good enough. But your dad doesn't have the best job at the Ministry, and considering there's eleven of you, you'd have to be as rich as the Malfoys to be considered 'well-off.' But if there weren't eleven of you, where would I be? Miserable, and without my best friend, that's where. I'd only have Hermione to keep me company. I'd go mad!" Ron looked up and managed a smile.

"You're right. I should've known Hermione couldn't mean it. She'll probably come running to me, teary eyed, begging for forgiveness. Anyways, are we having practice today? Because I've got some really good moves I thought up last night…"

And so Ron was off, ranting about his Quidditch moves he had deciphered. Although Harry was captain, he depended a lot on Ron, and had finally gotten Ron officially declared co-captain, though he'd always been. He was much better at Keeper now that he didn't have Angelina "Channeling-Oliver-Wood's-Spirit" Johnson breathing down his neck, and he was good at coming up with strategy. Despite this, he still liked to creep around the Quidditch pitch during the Slytherin team's practice time.

Harry was so tired, he didn't really listen. He had a vague idea that Ron's latest tactics involved combining the Dopplebeater Defense, Woollongong Shimmy, and the Wronski Feint, but he wouldn't stake his life on it. Yawning, he picked up his goblet of Pumpkin Juice and took a long gulp of it.

It was bitter and sickly sweet at the same time, like poisoned honey. Harry choked and spluttered, spitting out what little he hadn't swallowed, but most of the juice had gone down before he could react.

"Harry, are you all right?" Harry's head snapped up, and his eyes met those of Ron, who was halfway leaning across the table, his blue eyes filled with concern for his best friend. "Did you choke?" he asked, and Harry felt his stomach do a flip-flop. Ron looked so beautiful when he worried…

_Beautiful! _Harry gasped to himself. He jerked his hand back, which, to his horror, had been reaching over to grasp Ron's jaw, and fell backwards, off of the bench. He crashed to the floor, then scrambled up. Ignoring Ron's shouts, he fled the Great Hall, leaving it in a stunned silence.

His breath coming in ragged gasps, he ran for the only place he knew he could find solitude. He headed for the library in search of his other best friend.

Bursting into the library and ignoring Madame Pince's evil looks, Harry headed for Hermione's usual table. Sure enough, behind a large stack of ancient books was the not-so-bushy head of Hermione Granger.

"Hermione!" he gasped, skidding to a halt next to her. She looked up and Harry realized her eyes were red and swollen from tears. "'Mione, what's wrong?" he asked, sinking into the chair next to her. She gazed back at him, and blinked back more tears.

"R-Ron," she whimpered, wiping, futilely, at her eyes. "I s-said the m-most horrible things t-to him!" Harry took her hands in his, comfortingly. "I told him that if he d-didn't work hard, he'd end up as p-poor as the rest of his family!" She began to sob, loudly, and Harry hugged her.

"Shh…Calm down, Hermione," he soothed, rocking her, slightly. "I already talked to Ron. I told him that you didn't mean it, and that you were only looking out for his well being. If you apologize to him, I know he'll forgive you." Hermione lifted her brown eyes to his.

"You think so?" she sniffed, hopefully. He nodded, and smiled at her. Then it struck him. He had his own problem with Ron.

"Um, Hermione, I kind of have my own problem with Ron, and I need your help…" Harry trailed off, awkwardly, and Hermione wiped at her eyes.

"Yes?" she prodded, looking at him, expectantly. He blushed, slightly. How was he supposed to tell her that he had suddenly wanted to put his arms around Ron, run his fingers through that silky red hair, and kiss every freckle he possessed?

"Um, uh, well you see…" he started, but the bell had suddenly rang. Hermione jumped up.

"We're late for class!" she gasped. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'll have to talk to you later! We'll talk during lunch, okay?" Before Harry could say anything, she had dashed off. Dismayed, Harry stood up and headed for the Gryffindor Tower to get his things as well. However, every single class he had was with Ron. It was going to prove to be a long and tedious morning.


	2. Preferring Potions

Chapter Two: Preferring Potions

"Hey, were you all right this morning?" Ron asked, sitting down next to Harry. Harry cringed, slightly, as his fingers twitched. Ron's hand was lying innocently on the table. It would be so simple to just reach out and grab it…

Harry snapped out of his daze as Snape walked in, looking as foreboding as ever. He sneered down at Harry, then his gaze returned to the entire class, which was Double Potions with the Slytherins.

"Turn in your essays on love potions, and today we shall be making the Draught of Faux Infatuation, a temporary form of the Draught of Infatuation. No one will have to drink the concoction, but for safety reasons, we are making the temporary form, lest some potion mysteriously slips into another's Pumpkin Juice today. If, for some reason, that happens..." He paused to glare at each person. "...the effects will only last for an hour. Ingredients are on my desk, instructions on the blackboard. I will pair you off."

Not to anyone's surprise, but to Harry's great relief, he was paired with Draco Malfoy. Neither of them said anything, making a silent truce not to fight, or exchange petty insults, because the last time they had fought in potions, Snape had been having an extremely bad day, and he gave them five hours of detention every night for a week. Needless to say, neither boy wanted detention again, so they kept quiet except to ask for the runespoor skin, or something. Potions went very well that day, and Harry was silently thanking his lucky stars that it was doubled. The only mishap was that Neville blew up his cauldron _yet again,_ but that was not a surprise.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was their next period, and definitely the most popular. Their new teacher, a Londoner named Tory Wilkins, was only in her twenties, with fair skin, brownish-blonde hair, and bright blue eyes that twinkled so much there was a rumor going around that she was related to Dumbledore.

Needless to say, she was undoubtedly the most popular teacher, even among the Slytherins. The girls liked her because she was funny and nice and didn't believe in homework on the weekends. The _boys_ liked her because she was very pretty. Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom had gotten in an argument the other day over whether she had smiled at Seamus or Neville while passing them in the hall.

"Please take out some parchment and a quill. Copy down these notes, and then we will begin our practical lesson. Today we will be studying Demiguises..."

The Demiguise was an ape-like creature with long silvery hair. Because of the invisibility properties in its fur, the Demiguise is hard to catch, but its pelt is prized in the making of invisibility cloaks, as Hermione informed them.

Harry would have founds the discussion invigorating, for he had his own invisibility cloak, but he was far too busy trying _not_ to sweep Ron off his feet and snog his brains out. He nearly had a heart attack when Ron grabbed his hand to stop him from giving their Demiguise an apple, something it disliked immensely.

"Harry, are you all right?" he asked, looking concerned. "You've been kind of out of it all morning..." Harry shook his head.

"I'm fine," he said, briskly, pulling out of Ron's grasp. Ron shrugged and began to peel another orange. Harry's hand still tingled from where Ron had touched him. However easy he thought avoiding Ron would be, he was very, very wrong.


	3. Awkward Acknowledgements

Chapter Three: Awkward Acknowledgements

"You wanted to talk to me, Harry?" Hermione asked, meeting him at the bottom of the stairs. Ron had hung back to ask Professor Wilkins about the paper they were supposed to do on Demiguises. He grabbed Hermione's hand and dragged her to the library.

"Okay, it's about, well...Today at breakfast...I had choked on my Pumpkin Juice, and when I looked at Ron, I felt like...like...like I had a c-c-crush on him," Harry stammered, blushing furiously. Hermione's jaw dropped.

"How long have you felt like this?" she asked, after an awkward silence.

"Just since this morning. I just looked up at Ron and found myself thinking about how beautiful he is!" he exclaimed. "Was," he corrected.

"Well...Have you ever...thought that before?" she asked. Harry shook his head. "Ever felt like that about any other boy?" Again, Harry shook his head. Hermione shrugged. "Well, Harry, I don't know what to tell you...I mean, you spent your life in a cupboard. You weren't really exposed to anyone, male or female. Perhaps you were gay all the time, and Cho was just a fluke. After all, things didn't work out between you two."

"No, Hermione. This isn't natural. I mean, if I had a crush on Ron, I'd still be able to control myself! But sometimes I'm just thinking about what it would be like to hold his hand, and the next second I'm reaching for it! When I tried to hold Cho's hand, I could barely work up the nerve!" Hermione shrugged.

"Well, I'll think about it. For now, I advise you not to tell Ron." Harry made a strangled noise, as if to say, 'Like I would have anyway!' "I'll look around here, see if I can find anything."

"Okay. Thanks, Hermione." Harry stood up and headed for lunch, leaving Hermione to her books.

He entered the Great Hall and sat across from Ron, wincing as his stomach flipped over again. Ron was happily eating his potatoes, a huge smile on his face.

"What're you so happy about?" Harry asked, loading his own plate with food. Ron flashed the grin in his direction, and Harry practically _melted_. _Ron has such a brilliant smile..._

"Just talked to Professor Wilkins," he said, taking a bite of his Shepherd's Pie. "She said I was doing really well in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Said I should think about going into that area when I graduate." Harry couldn't help but snicker. Ron had a _huge_ crush on Professor Wilkins. "And then Snape came in, and _guess what?_"

"What?" Harry asked, grabbing a roll.

"He asked _Professor Wilkins_ if she could make him a potion!" Harry dropped his roll.

"_What!_" Ron nodded, eagerly.

"Yeah! Apparently, she's really good at potion making, too! Snape even offered to trade positions with her!" Ron closed his eyes, blissfully. "Snape nearly blew the coop when he noticed I was there. It was brilliant..." He opened his eyes again. "But now Snape's going to be hell tomorrow. He'll probably give us _another_ essay on those damned love potions..."

Harry shot up, as if he'd been shocked. "That's _it!_" he exclaimed. "Ron, you're a genius!" Ron looked at him, blankly.

"I am?" Harry nodded, forced himself not to kiss Ron, then dashed out with a quick, "See you at Care of Magical Creatures!"

Harry ran for the library once more, but Hermione darted out first. They both halted in the middle of the entrance hall and said at the exact same time, "I figured it out!"

Hermione dragged Harry over to a secluded corner of the library, where dozens of books were stacked up. "It's love potions, Harry! Somebody slipped you a love potion!" Harry nodded.

"I know! I was talking to Ron, and he said something about it, and it clicked! So, how do we counter it?" She shook her head.

"Didn't you pay _any_ attention to that essay we wrote for Professor Snape? There are hundreds upon hundreds of different love potions! We'd have to know which one you drank, first." Harry thought for a moment.

"Well, how do we tell?"

"Color, taste, texture...that sort of thing." Harry thought for a moment.

"Well, it must have been orange or clear, because my Pumpkin Juice looked the same. But it tasted sweet and bitter at the same time. Like some foul candy or something. You know how some Muggle candies taste like cough drops coated in something sweet? It was kind of like that, but it burned my throat as it went down."

"Is that everything?" Hermione asked, picking up a book. Harry nodded. "Okay, well, I have a free period next, so I'll do some research. But you're going to have to help me a lot on this."

"I'll come tonight, after dinner. I'll get Ron to take over practice. He'd enjoy that..." Hermione nodded, absentmindedly, as she scanned the Table of Contents.

"Please try to get here as soon as you can," she said. "This is really serious. There are so many dangers to being under a love potion, and considering it's you..." She let her sentence hang in the air, but both of them could finish it.

Considering it was Harry, this could be Voldemort's key to his undoing.


	4. Relentless Researching

Chapter Four: Relentless Researching

"Hey, Ron, I need you to take over Quidditch practice tonight," Harry said at dinner. "I've got to help Hermione with some research. It's really important." Ron frowned.

"Why are you researching?"

"Er...It's for McGonagall. You remember how she said she'd help me become an Auror if she had to personally train me every night?" Ron nodded. "Well, it looks like she'd finally living up to it. So Hermione's helping me research on past Aurors, but tonight's the only night I can do it. The paper's due first thing tomorrow morning. Can you just take over Quidditch this one night?"

Ron thought about it, as if it were a burden, but Harry knew that he would love to. "I suppose I can train the Chasers. Ginny's pretty good, and of course Alicia's fine, but that new girl, What's-her-name..."

"Riley," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, her. She could do with some help. She's good, but she spent her time playing Quadpot over in America. It's pretty much the same as Quidditch, but she rushes because in Quadpot, the Quaffle explodes. I could work with her to get her to slow down."

"Thanks, Ron. I really appreciate it." Ron smiled, and Harry felt his chest swell with pleasure.

"No problem, Harry. Just don't let Hermione drive you mad. If you start to twitch compulsively, get out of there quick." Harry laughed, and watched Ron leave to get ready for practice. He hurried to finish eating, then headed for the library for the third time that day.

"Did you find anything?" Harry asked, sitting down next to Hermione. She nodded, then pointed to a rather thick roll of parchment.

"That's a list of all the colorless love potions I've found so far." She pointed to another roll, which wasn't quite as thick, but close. "That's a list of all the orange love potions I've found. Start looking up the properties of each one and see if any of them match. If they do, write them down."

Harry nodded and unrolled the parchment with the orange potions. He picked up a thick, leather-bound book and began to flip through it. Four hours later, he was still flipping through them.

Lovey-Dovey Draught..._What kind of name is that? Well, it _is_ a love potion, but still..._Sweet, chocolate taste..._Well, it was sweet, but it didn't taste like chocolate..._Agape Anti-Antidote..._Couldn't they have just said 'potion'? How hard is that?_ Salty taste...Turns the balls of fingers blue for five minutes after consumption..._Nope. I would've noticed if my fingers were blue..._Amare Potion...Sweet, peppermint taste...Stripes the tongue red and white for five hours..._It didn't taste like peppermint. Besides, _somebody_ would have noticed if my tongue was red-and-white..._Confuzzlement Concoction..._What the...? _Created by an eccentric American witch, who insisted on calling herself Boomerang, this potion is not really a love potion, though it is classified as one. Instead, it confuses the drinker into thinking that he or she is in love with everyone, until they figure who they really _are_ in love with..._Crazy Americans...Well, we know it's not _that_ one..._

"Come on, Harry...Let's get you to bed," said a soft, sweet voice. Harry felt himself being picked up and carried out of the library. He thought it was Hermione at first, but it occurred to him that Hermione didn't have the strength. Ignoring the voice in the back of his head that was wondering who was carrying him, Harry sighed and snuggled into the warm jumper they were wearing and fell asleep.


	5. Magnus Miser

Chapter Five: Magnus Miser

"Morning class," Tory said, sitting Indian-style on her desk. The class chorused, "Morning Professor Wilkins!" and she flashed them a smile. Thus began an almost-silent debate between Dean and Seamus on who she smiled at, exactly.

"Today we will be doing a rather different lesson. As such, Professor Snape will be assisting us." The students exchanged glances, obviously not pleased with this.

"We're going to be learning about _Magnus Miser_, and how to counter it," she explained. A flurry of whispers scattered through the class. Snape gave Tory a searing look that was obviously a direct stab at her control of the class, but she paid no heed. "Who can tell me what _Magnus Miser_ is and does?" Not surprisingly, Hermione's hand shot up almost instantaneously. "Hermione?"

"_Magnus Miser _is the fourth Unforgivable Curse, and the most dangerous. Originally discovered in the Dark Ages, it was recently rediscovered by Rigel Lestrange."

At the mention of the Lestranges, Neville, Ron, and Harry winced. Realizing what she had said, Hermione sent a horrified glance in Harry's direction, but he shook his head.

"The spell combines the three Unforgivables," Hermione continued. "The victim of the spell does not die. Rather, the closest person to him or her experiences great pain, the Cruciatus curse. After a long period of agony, they will die, the Killing Curse. Once he or she is dead, the original victim is forced to do the caster's bidding, the Imperius Curse. It is so terrible that the Ministry is still trying to decide on an appropriately horrible punishment."

"Very good, Miss Granger. Now, because Rigel Lestrange is a follower of You-Know-Who, I think that it is especially necessary for the sixth years to learn the counter-potion, considering the circumstances." Her blue eyes met Harry's briefly. "To counter _Magnus Miser_, one must make a very complicated potion, and that is why Professor Snape is joining us today." She glanced at Professor Snape, and he waved his wand. A list of ingredients appeared on the blackboard.

"Before you can concoct this potion, you must understand the properties of each ingredient, what it does, and what would happen if you neglected to add it to the potion. You will take thorough notes."

They spent the next hour taking notes on the unusual and rather nasty ingredients used in the counter-potion until the bell rang. "Bring your cauldrons to class next time!" Tory called as they left.

"Ugh. I hope Snape's not at any more lessons," Ron said irritably.

"Tell me about it," Harry agreed, matching his pace to Ron's longer strides. He'd noticed that he'd begun to trail behind, his eyes straying toward Ron's lower back region and beyond.

And he definitely couldn't have _that_.


	6. Disconcerting Dreams

Chapter Six: Disconcerting Dreams

A week later, Harry was dreaming.

_Harry stared around himself. It was completely black, and he couldn't see anything at all. He was terrified, and jumped when someone stepped into the light. But he relaxed when he saw that it was Ron, who was grinning, lopsidedly at him. _

_"Mistletoe, Harry," he was saying. Harry looked up. Sure enough, there was the mistletoe. But as he was watching, the mistletoe became the head of Voldemort. His red eyes gleaming, Voldemort pointed his wand at Harry._

_He muttered something, and a horrible scream rang out, but it was not Harry's. Harry whipped around and saw Ron on his knees, shaking and screaming in agony. His face paled considerably, and his blue eyes stared up at Harry, piteously, no longer sparkling, but dark and without hope. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Ron let out another horrible scream, and it was accompanied by a high, cold laugh that sent chills down Harry's spine._

_"Harry!"_

_It was over. Ron's lifeless body slumped to the floor and Harry let out a howl like a wounded dog. He fell on his knees at Ron's side and began shaking him, trying to awaken him, but he knew he would never wake up..._

_"Harry!"_

_Voldemort was laughing. He grinned, wickedly, at Harry. He pointed his wand at Harry and opened his mouth. "Avada..."_

"HARRY!"

Harry shot up in bed, gasping for breath. He was covered in a cold sweat, and his scar was burning, fiercely, as if he had just been burned.

"Harry, are you all right?"

Harry nearly screamed, but Ron clamped a hand over his mouth. "Hey, calm down! It's just me!" he hissed. Harry sighed, relieved, but he was still shaking.

"Oh, god, Ron..." Harry whimpered. Tears began to form in his eyes. Ron was taken aback, but he hugged his best friend, hesitantly. Harry clung to his shirt, tears streaking down his face. "I was so scared," he whispered. "I thought you were dead..."

"Hey, I'm not," Ron assured him. "I'm alive and well. Promise."

Harry smiled and looked up into Ron's blue eyes, which were reflecting the moonlight. He looked so beautiful, concerned, but smiling reassuringly...

Harry leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against Ron's, tears still streaking down his cheeks. Ron's lips were chapped under his, but so soft...

Harry jerked back, suddenly realizing exactly what he was doing. Ron looked shocked. "I-I'm sorry!" Harry stammered, leaping out of bed and fleeing the Gryffindor Common Room.


	7. Cooking Consolation

Chapter Seven: Cooking Consolation

Hermione found Harry in the kitchens. His face was pale, but his green eyes were dull, and lined with red. Tear streaks stained his cheeks. He was staring forlornly into a large glass of Butterbeer, as if considering drowning himself in it. The House Elves were watching him, fearfully. Hermione quietly shooed them away after requesting a cup of tea, and sat down across from the poor boy who was her best friend.

"Harry, what happened? Ron woke me up and said that you'd had a nightmare, and that you'd run from the boys' dormitory," Hermione said, quietly, noticing the way Harry's hands shook at the mention of Ron's name. "But he wouldn't tell me anything else." Harry sniffled, slightly, took a swig of his Butterbeer, and refused to meet Hermione's eye.

"I had a dream...I dreamed that Voldemort cursed me, but Ron was the one who suffered. He was screaming, and he was writhing, and then he died. I woke up right before Voldemort killed me, and Ron was sitting on my bed. I expect he came to wake me up. But I was so scared...I started crying, and Ron hugged me, and told me that it was just a dream...And he looked so beautiful in the moonlight that I...I k-kissed him..." Harry placed his head in his hands.

"Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time," Hermione said, her voice oddly low. "I mean, this isn't something you would have been able to just keep from him. Whatever love potion you were given, it's very strong. You were bound to act eventually, and your weakest moment was at that exact moment. You were already emotional, and Ron being there when you woke up did not really help things. It probably would have been better if you had just told him the first place. It would have been less of a shock..."

"What am I going to do?" Harry groaned, motioning to a House Elf that he wanted another Butterbeer.

"First, you're going to go to bed. The boys are probably asleep by now. Tomorrow you're just going to have to explain to Ron what's going on." Harry's eyes widened.

"Can't you do it?" he pleaded. Hermione pursed her lips and shook her head, firmly.

"No. You're the one who kissed him. You're going to have to do this on your own. Anyway, that way we won't have to make up excuses to Ron. It'll be easier to research."

"I think I'll just sleep down here," Harry mumbled. Hermione shook her head.

"No. You need to get to bed." A thought suddenly occurred to Harry.

"Hey, Hermione? Who carried me to bed last week?" The corners of Hermione's mouth quirked into a smile.

"Ron."


	8. Quidditch Quest

Chapter Eight: Quidditch Quest

The next morning, Ron had already gone when Harry awoke. The other boys were just getting out of bed. None of them seemed to know what happened last night. Harry dressed, hurriedly, and went down to breakfast, but Ron wasn't there. Wracking his brain for all the possibilities, Harry came up with it: The Quidditch pitch.

Sure enough, when Harry reached the Quidditch pitch, he could see one lone figure circling overhead. It was undoubtedly Ron. Harry pulled open the broom shed, grabbed his Firebolt, and shot up after Ron. When Ron saw Harry, his eyes widened, but he didn't move.

"Ron, I need to talk to you," Harry said, quietly, hovering next to him. Ron didn't answer, just examined his suddenly fascinating broom handle. "Ron, about last night...You've got to understand, I didn't mean to..."

"To kiss me?" Ron asked, speaking for the first time. There was no roughness to his voice, just stating the facts.

"Ron, I swear, I didn't...I would never have..."

"Geez, Harry..." Ron breathed, running his fingers through his hair. "You could have told me you liked me...I mean, obviously I don't like you back, but it would have been better if you'd told me, rather than kissed me. I mean, I'm not resenting you, or anything. You're my best mate, but...You _kissed_ me!" Harry sighed in relief. This was going to be better than he'd expected. He'd figured Ron would freak out and start yelling.

"No, Ron, I don't like you. I mean, I'm not even gay, I don't think. But you remember yesterday, at breakfast, when I choked on my Pumpkin Juice?" Ron nodded. "Well, I choked because it was burning. Somebody slipped a love potion in my Pumpkin Juice. Trouble is, the first person I looked at was you, so...I'm in love with you."

Ron's eyes widened. "You're in love with me?" he exclaimed. Harry nodded. "Oh...Well, that's a bit comforting. I mean, I'd have felt really bad if you liked me..." he said, logically. "But who put it in your drink?" Harry shrugged.

"That isn't the least of my worries. Hermione and I have just been trying to figure which love potion it is! There are _so_ many! We're trying to find the counter potion, but no dice so far."

"Yeah, but we have to find out who did it! Love potions are illegal, Harry! Whoever did it is probably working for Voldemort! They could be using me to get to you!" Ron looked around, as if he were expecting Voldemort and his Death Eaters to pop out of the ground.

"Yeah, well, if we find the counter-potion quick enough, we won't have to worry about Voldemort. Besides, how would Voldemort manage to slip me a love-potion?" Ron shrugged, but he was going into paranoia-mode.

"Well, it could've been Snape! I mean, you know, he _is_ the potions master! Or Malfoy! He's always done well in potions. Daddy's little Death Eater, no doubt. He could have slipped it to you." Ron was ranting about who could have given Harry the love potion all the way back to the castle, but Harry wasn't listening. He was just glad Ron didn't hate him. He'd probably die of a broken heart. Which would be a shame, since Christmas was coming up.


	9. Hogsmeade Holiday

Chapter Nine: Hogsmeade Holiday

That weekend was a Hogsmeade weekend, so the students could finish up their Christmas shopping. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in much better moods than they had been all week. Hermione had apologized to Ron, Ron knew why Harry was acting so oddly, and Harry was in love...kind of...

Despite the last bit being unnatural, they were all quite cheerful. There was fresh snow on the ground, and carolers were singing 'God Rest Ye Merry Hippogriffs,' and 'Oh Come, All Ye Fwoopers.'

Their first stop was Honeydukes, where they picked up their monthly supply of sweets, before splitting up to buy each other's gifts. Harry headed for the Quidditch shop. He examined the items, looking for something to buy for Ron. He settled on a nice pocket watch that would yell out the scores for whatever Chudley Cannons game was going on at that moment. He knew Ron would love it; Ron was constantly complaining about not being able to keep up with his favorite team.

For Hermione, he went into the bookstore, quite an obvious decision, and he was surprised to see Professor Wilkins flipping through a large book on werewolves.

"Hello, Professor," he greeted.

"Tory," she said, automatically.

"What?" he stammered. She looked up and smiled at him.

"My name's Tory. None of this 'Professor' business. It makes me feel old. I'm only four years older than you, you know," she said, grinning. "Good to see you, Harry! Getting your Christmas shopping done, I suppose?" He nodded, still looking suspiciously at the book. She smiled, knowingly, and held it up so he could see the title. "_Werewolves That Made a Difference: Werewolves that have changed history for the better, and how they did it without the Ministry screwing things up._" She grinned. "It's quite a fascinating read. I was looking for _Quidditch Through the Ages_, because I'm afraid I've worn mine out completely, but I saw this and thought it would be perfect for an old friend of mine. I believe you know Remus Lupin?" Harry nodded.

"Yes. He taught us in third year. He was best friends with my father." She nodded.

"Yes, well, he got me out of a rather tight spot once when I was in Bristol, and we got to be good friends. I think he'd find this rather amusing. It was written by a werewolf, actually." Harry nodded.

"It does look like something he'd enjoy. Good choice." She nodded. She was scrutinizing him, he could tell. She was just looking at him, without saying anything. Suddenly, her eyes widened, slightly.

"Harry..." she said, slowly. Harry looked up. "Um...Ah, never mind. I'd best be off. Lost of Christmas things to buy." She purchased the book and hurried out of the shop looking rather worried. Harry stared after her, then shrugged, and began looking for a book for Hermione.

He found one that was titled _Hogwarts, an Unraveling: A look on the secrets of Hogwarts that were not revealed in my first book, Hogwarts, a History_. Harry snickered at the title, purchased it, and then headed for the Three Broomsticks, where he was supposed to meet Hermione and Ron for lunch.

"Hey, mate!" Ron said, as he sat down. "I saw Hermione going into some creepy book shop. Let's hope she doesn't come out with some massive book on trolls, or something, eh?" Ron teased. Harry nodded.

"Did you know that Tory is friends with Lupin?" Harry asked.

"Who?"

"Professor Wilkins," Harry corrected, quickly.

"You're on first name terms?" Harry rolled his eyes. "She knows Lupin, eh?" Harry nodded. "D'you think she's part of the Order?" Harry shrugged.

"Could be. But I got the feeling they're more than friends, you know?" Ron's jaw dropped.

"You think she's Lupin's _girlfriend!_" Harry nodded. Ron sat back in his chair and took a swig of Butterbeer. "Wow. Lucky Lupin..." Harry snorted.

"Honestly, Ron..."

"What? She's pretty! If you weren't under some stupid love potion, you'd think so, too!" Ron said, defensively. Harry grinned.

"Yeah, but you don't have the greatest luck with women," Harry replied, thinking of Fleur Delacour, whom Ron had had a crush on in their fourth year.

"Hey, I landed you, didn't I? That's what half the female population is after," Ron said, shrugging. Harry punched him on the arm.

"I am _not_ a girl!"

"No, but you definitely punch like one." Harry growled at Ron, but Ron just laughed. "Look. There's Hermione," Ron said, before Harry could chuck his Butterbeer at Ron. "And she's got a massive book, too. I told you!"

"Hey, 'Mione. What's with the book?" Harry asked as Hermione sat down with a Butterbeer.

"It's a book on love potions. Ones that aren't in the Hogwarts library. I figure it probably would have _something_ useful. Did you all get your shopping done?" she asked. They nodded.

"Yeah, but I want to stop in Honeydukes. I'm all out of Sugar Quills," Ron said, his eyes glazing over, slightly, at the thought of the sweet shop. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Well, alright, but let's eat, first. I'm starving."

They had a delicious lunch, and then headed for the notorious candy store. While Ron was deciding what to buy, Harry dragged Hermione aside. "Hey, 'Mione, when I was in one of the shops, I found Tory--Professor Wilkins. We got to talking, and then she just studied me for a moment, and then her eyes got wide, and she dashed off!" Hermione pursed her lips as she watched Ron stagger to a corner, where he was piling up sweets.

"Hmm...Well, Professor Wilkins is very skilled in potion-making. Some skilled potion masters can detect when someone is under the influence of a potion, and then the _most_ skilled can determine what type. Perhaps she detected that you were under a love potion," Hermione finished, thoughtfully.

"Do you think so? What if she went to Professor Dumbledore, or McGonagall? Oh, that would be mortifying. Absolutely _awful_. It'd be so embarrassing. You know how word spreads around here! Everyone would know that I'm in love with Ron before the week is out!" Hermione chuckled.

"Well, she'll probably come to you, first. Professor Wilkins is straight out of school, practically. She still understands the teenage mindset. I'm sure she'll talk to you before she goes to the Headmaster," Hermione said, assuredly.

"I hope so..."

"Are you guys ready?" Ron said, coming over with two bags full of sweets. Hermione clucked her tongue, disapprovingly, but Ron ignored her.

"Yeah, let's go. Besides, we have Quidditch practice."


	10. Investigating Incidents

Chapter Ten: Investigating Incidents

Quidditch practice was right before dinner. "Hey, Harry!" said a cheerful, American voice. Riley McCain was the American transfer student.

"Hey, Riley. Did practice go well last week?" Harry asked, pulling out his Firebolt. She nodded, enthusiastically.

"Oh, yes! Ron helped get me to slow down. I rush things a bit, you know?" Harry nodded.

"Hey, Riley?"

"Mmmhmm?" she said, flying little figure eights around Harry.

"Are you, by any chance, related to Oliver Wood?" She nodded, grinning.

"He's my second cousin. He got me into Quidditch. You don't get a lot of Quidditch in America, you know. But Oliver got me hooked."

"I noticed..." Harry muttered.

Practice began. Since Harry had missed last practice, Ron took over for a while. He explained some defensive maneuvers to the Beaters, and everyone took off to put them into action.

Harry wasn't paying much attention. He was normally supposed to be surveying their practice _and_ looking for the Snitch. But after a highly stressful week, Harry just let Ron handle things, and he simply browsed for the Snitch. As he was doing a lazy loop around the goalposts, though, his heart stopped as a familiar yell sounded.

"RON!" everyone cried. Apparently, the defensive maneuvers hadn't gone as planned. Ron had had to pull a sloth roll to dodge a flying Bludger, but he'd lost his gripping. He was plummeting toward the ground.

Without a second thought, Harry dived, urging his Firebolt to go as fast as it possibly could. He swooped underneath Ron and pulled up, holding out his arms just in time to catch Ron's gangly figure.

"Ohmygosh!" Ron gasped. He had never fallen from a broom before, not at that height. His eyes were wide, and his knuckles were white, because he was clutching Harry's robes so tightly. With a sigh of relief, Ron buried his face in Harry chest, giggling, madly.

That was absolutely terrifying," Ron said, giggling at the adrenaline rush. Harry didn't answer. He was too busy trying to remember how to breathe. Ron's breath was tickling his neck. Applause and whoops brought him out of his moment of bliss.

The rest of the team were cheering. "No wonder he was named Seeker!" Riley cheered. Harry blushed, and set Ron gently down. Ron was shaking, slightly, but he was still grinning like mad.

Jack Sloper, the Beater who had hit the Bludger, landed next to Ron and began profusely apologizing, practically on his knees. Harry shouted, "That's enough for today," and headed for the locker room.

"Hey, Harry!" He turned and saw Riley right behind him. She was grinning, mischievously.

"Uh-huh?" She smiled, and dragged him inside the locker room so they wouldn't be overhead. She sat him down on the bench and stood in front of him, hands on her hips, a wide grin on her face as she surveyed him. Then she squatted down in front of him, looking up at him.

"You like Ron, don't you?" she whispered, conspiratorially. Harry blinked.

"What?" he asked, picking up a water bottle.

"Ron! You like him!" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah...I mean, he's only been my best friend since I was eleven...Riley, what're you on—"

"No, no, no. I mean you _like_ him. As in, you feel for him? You're warm for his form? You want his body?" Harry choked on his water.

"What!" She rolled her eyes.

"Don't _even_ try to hide it. It's _so_ obvious!" Harry coughed, slightly, and grinned down at Riley. Well, he was going to have to explain it anyways. He might as well have some fun with it.

"No, Riley...I _love_ with Ron. I've loved him since I first set eyes on that freckled face," Harry said, mellow dramatically. Riley's face lit up, and she clapped her hands. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorially whisper, much like the one Riley had used earlier. "I'm going to _propose _to him tonight!" Her eyes widened, and so did her smile.

"So he likes you too?" Harry shook his head.

"Oh, no. He doesn't even know _I_ like him! But my love for him has the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns, so I just _have_ to marry him!" Riley looked like she was beginning to regret bringing it up.

"Well, Harry...Maybe you're rushing it a bit...I mean, if you just go up to Ron and propose to him, you're going to give him a heart attack!"

"You're _proposing_ to me!"

Riley and Harry both looked up simultaneously, to see a white-faced Ron. Riley looked horrified for Harry, but Harry was laughing.

"My god! I didn't know it was _that_ serious!" Ron gasped, hurrying over.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron! I'm not proposing to you!" Harry said between snickers.

"But you _just said_..." Riley began. Harry looked guiltily up at her.

"Well, actually, you see, I _am_ in love with Ron, but only because of—You can't tell _anyone_ this—a love potion. I'm not _really_ in love with Ron," Harry chuckled. Ron began laughing, too. Riley stared from Ron to Harry, then muttered, "Dirty trick, Potter..." But there was, oddly enough, less resentment than Harry had expected. She left the locker room with a secretive smile on her face.

Harry looked at Ron, a slow grin spreading on his face. "Did you see..."

"...the look on her FACE!"


	11. Muggle Movies

Chapter Eleven: Muggle Movies

Still laughing over the incident with Riley, Ron and Harry returned to the common room, where Hermione was pouring over the book she had bought that morning.

"How was Quidditch practice?" she asked, not bothering to look up.

"Brilliant," Ron said, flopping down in a chair. Harry beamed and fought not to squirm with pleasure at Ron's praise. "Harry pulled a prank on Riley. Freaked her out completely." Hermione looked up, curious.

"She'd noticed me acting different, and she assumed I liked Ron. Well, you know, I couldn't just tell her I liked Ron. I had to explain it. But first, I had a little fun with it." Harry explained the prank, a huge smile on his face. When he'd finished talking, Hermione smiled.

"Bet she loved that. You'd better watch it, though. She's American. Americans are really big on seeking revenge, and all that. They watch too many movies. I'd watch my back for a while," she advised. Ron frowned.

"What's a movie?" he asked. Harry and Hermione snorted and rolled their eyes. It wasn't Ron's fault that he was completely clueless about the Muggle world, but it was still amusing.

As Hermione began to explain the concept of a movie, Harry opened his bag and pulled out a sheet of parchment and a quill. Snickering at the very confused look on Ron's face, Harry began to write.

_Dear Remus,_

_I hope you're enjoying your work. The students certainly are enjoying _their_ work. Defense Against the Dark Arts, anyway. Our new professor is _SO_ hot! I just want to jump her every time she walks past me. And now we're on first-name terms. I think she really digs me. I've been getting _much_ better grades…Perhaps that has to do something with it. Of course, Ron's really jealous. You wouldn't _believe_ the stuff he says in his sleep! He needs a censor or something! Anyway, just wanted to check up on you, see what was going on over there. Have a good Christmas!_

_Harry_

Cackling evilly, Harry excused himself and headed for the Owlery to send off the letter. Checking his watch, he quickened his pace as he turned a corner and headed up the stairs. Fifth years and up were allowed to be out of their dorms until nine, but it was almost eight fifty.

As he rounded another corner, Harry passed Professor Wilkins'—_Tory's_, Harry corrected himself—office. The door was cracked, and he could hear Tory's angry voice speaking.

"I'm telling you, Severus, I _sensed_ something!" she was saying. Harry froze and hovered next to the door, listening. "And don't tell me that I was imagining it, because you and I both know that you _don't_ mistake the stench of a potion!"

Professor Snape muttered a reply, but he was too quiet for Harry to understand him.

"I have no idea! I'm not as experienced as you are. I can't tell the difference between a sleeping drought and a Drought of Death."

More Snape murmuring.

"I want you to…I dunno…just walk past him or something and tell me what you sense! I'm telling you, Severus, this is serious. What if Potter doesn't even _know_ there's a potion? That could prove to be the death of the Boy-Who-Lived."

Snape murmured a response.

"Thanks, Sev," Tory muttered. Footsteps moved toward the door. Harry sprang away and dashed down the hall as quietly as possible before he got caught.

Harry sent his letter and returned to the Common Room, all the while contemplating what he had heard. He would definitely have to tell Hermione. It would be bad for the teachers to get involved. Not to mention embarrassing. But when he stepped into the Common Room, he saw that both Ron and Hermione had gone to bed. He had quietly slipped into the boys' dorm, changed, and crawled into bed when he heard a familiar voice.

"Harry?" Harry's stomach twisted.

"Yeah, Ron?"

"What's a movie?"


	12. Raging Remus

Chapter Twelve: Raging Remus

"Come on, Harry! Get up!"

Harry groaned and rolled over onto his back. Blearily, he blinked and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus. Ron stood over him, grinning broadly. Harry's stomach clenched and unclenched, but he ignored it, too tired to focus. He had stayed up all night worrying about what Tory had said.

"What're you so damn happy about?" he mumbled, rolling out of bed. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Lupin's here. He looks ready to kill someone. And he's asking about you," he chuckled. "He keeps muttering inappropriate things." Harry burst out laughing and couldn't stop for a good few minutes. "What did you do?" Rona asked suspiciously.

"I sent him a letter," Harry said innocently. "All about how you and I are warm for Tory's form." Ron raised an eyebrow.

"But I thought you—" Harry rolled his eyes.

"I am. I just wanted to get a rise out of him. I _knew_ he was involved with Tory!" Still laughing hysterically, Harry pulled on his jeans and hurried down to the Gryffindor Common Room.

The few students who were in the common room were huddled in corners, staring fearfully at Lupin, who was _livid_.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU'D BETTER STAY FAR, _FAR_ AWAY FROM TORY! IF I EVER CATCH YOU SO MUCH AS _LOOKING_ AT HER THE WRONG WAY, I'LL PUT YOUR EYES OUT WITH A SPORK! AND AS FOR RON, TELL HIM TO START THINKING WITH HIS HEAD RATHER THAN HIS—"

"LUPIN!" Harry interrupted, not wanting to scar the first years for life with Lupin's foul language. Well, that and he didn't know what he'd do if Ron's fifth extremity was mentioned.

"Calm down. I was kidding. I had the suspicions that you and Tory were dating, and I just wanted to get a rise out of you," Harry said with a guilty grin. Lupin muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, 'Just like your father…'

"Sorry, but it was too tempting," he apologized. "Anyway, think of it this way: Now you get to see Tory!" Lupin glared at him and stomped out of the common room, probably to go snog Tory, just to reassure himself that she wasn't going for students.

Harry turned around and saw Ron staring, openmouthed. His ears were slowly turning red, and he looked down at Harry. "Was he going to say…what I _think_ he's going to say?" Harry nodded.

"Yeah…I kinda' told him that you were talking in your sleep…I conveyed to him that it was some inappropriate language." Ron glared.

"Great…Just great…Now I've got a crazed werewolf pissed off at me," he muttered. "_Thanks_, Harry." Harry chuckled.

"He'll get over it," he said. "Come on. Hermione's probably wondering where we are."

They walked down to the Great Hall together, chuckling about Lupin. Hermione was at the Gryffindor table, her nose buried in one of the books she'd purchased at Hogsmeade.

"There you are!" she exclaimed when they sat down. "Professor Lupin just stormed in here, screaming for you! What happened?" Harry smiled, guiltily. Ron rolled his eyes and launched into an explanation.

"And he started threatening me!" he finished defensively. Hermione gave Harry a reproving look.

"You shouldn't have done that, Harry," she scolded.

"C'mon, Hermione. It was a _joke!_" Hermione huffed and returned to her book.

"Found anything?" Ron asked, breaking the awkward silence. Hermione sighed and shut her book.

"Not yet. There are just too many love potions! You wouldn't think there'd be that many, but there are!" She made a frustrated noise. Harry reached for the book.

"Hey, I'll do the research. I'm the one who's under it, anyway," he said, consolingly. She let him have it, and began to eat the cold eggs on her plate.

"I'll help," Ron offered. Harry gave him a look. "What? I'm the one who has to deal with you!"

Harry sighed. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing.


End file.
